High School Cupid
by Sacred Wishes
Summary: Everyone has heard of the God of Love. But, at East High, it's up to "Cupid" to rekindle romance. Troypay, then Troyella.
1. Of Toilets and Basketballs

**A/N: Another HSM fic, the other one died. D:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HSM, although I wished I did.**

In every aspect, Sharpay Evans And Troy Bolton was the perfect match in all of East High's glamorous, star-studded history. They even beat the now-married Mr. and Mrs. Bolton, who won Prom King and Queen in their year – the Bolton's albums were filled with stunning pictures of Mr. Bolton, obviously the MVP for his team that year in a crisp black tuxedo and a charming grin, as well as the bejeweled Mrs. Bolton, in a glittery pale pink dress and silk flats.

Interestingly enough, Sharpay and Troy did not exactly fit the typical high-schooler's couple definition – yes, one was a blonde beauty queen and drama prima donna (and no brain to speak of); the other was a blue-eyed jock with half the school's female population at his feet (and the other too proud to admit that boys were_ not _a species of disgusting smelly creatures). Most people overlooked one fact – Sharpay controlled every single aspect of Troy Bolton, working over him like a puppeteer, and he was given no freedom at all.

Everyone in East High admired the couple for their compatibility in terms of social status, looks and the number of parties they crashed without invitation each year (and ended up being the star of the show, too). What most of the couple's admirers did not know was the story that extended way back into the summer of two years ago, behind the closed double doors of Sharpay's country club…

--FLASHBACK--

The Boltons and the Evans were close friends; one usually invited the other to housewarming parties, masquerades etc. And when Ryan Evans suddenly fell sick while preparing for the annual concert at their country club, the Mrs. Bolton – a renowned doctor – and family were hurriedly called over and within the hour, preparations had been made for them to stay there. There was another reason, of course – Sharpay had insisted that Troy be brought along; even at the tender age of fifteen, she has had three relationships, broke up with the last one over the telephone just a week before Troy came, and was soon snuggling up to Troy.

Of course, Troy rejected her advances vehemently; he'd turn a corner whenever he saw the pigtailed blonde come charging his way, or – if he was cornered in the kitchen, a bowl of cereal sloshing in his hand – he would make excuses or barge his way out (at the expense of his cereal and Sharpay's branded dresses). It wasn't until Sharpay had managed to corner him with one hand still buttoning his jeans and the other on the doorknob of the toilet that he admitted to himself: _This girl is definitely crazy. _

"Troy," Sharpay said breathlessly, having just sprung from her ambush behind the door a few moments ago after a fifteen-minute long vigil. Her eyes swayed from Troy's sapphire-blue ones, then dropped to where his hand was fiddling with the button.

"Sharpay!" He almost shrieked, and barged forward in a vain attempt to escape the trap that Sharpay already held him in.

"Nuh-uh, Troy, you ain't going anywhere," she said, and giggled maniacally. She put a hand to his shoulder. "Darling," she murmured, stressing the "i", "Kiss me."

_If that would get her away from me, _thought Troy desperately, _her and her lavender-scented perfume and her manicured hands digging into my skin – _

He kissed her, softly, on the cheek and promptly rushed off before she could catch him again, flying straight into the arms of a certain silver-haired man who was a few inches taller than he was, and grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, Shar, are you getting close to this handsome lad here?" Mr. Evans boomed cheerfully, as if it were news, tickling Troy under his armpits. _Now I'll never see the end of this, _he grimaced, and almost sunk to his knees.

"Yes Daddy," she said sweetly, casting a glinting eye towards the constipated-looking Troy and enunciating clearly, "Troy's my new _boyfriend._"

--END FLASHBACK--

So that was the sad story of the beginning of Troy's most miserable romance, and Sharpay's torturous ways. Within the hour Sharpay and her dad had informed everyone in the house, including the delighted Mrs. Bolton, who was more than happy to see her sullen, basketball-obsessed boy finally enjoying the company of the opposite sex. Mr. Bolton only muttered something along the lines of "as long as he doesn't skip practices" – he did not like Sharpay Evans much. Mr. Bolton's wishes, as it turned out, were granted to him gratefully; Troy used the excuse of basketball practices to escape Sharpay's vices.

Ryan Evans was bullied by Sharpay into feigning sick for another five day, during which Sharpay enjoyed – and Troy dreaded – long walks down the beach owned by the Evans, holding a one-sided conversation where Sharpay gabbled on about their future plans – a mansion on Beverly Hills, three kids and a poodle – and Troy simply grunted at the right places. When school resumed, Sharpay wasted no time and broke the news to all her cronies – and before long, Troy realized that he had to fake his way through high school, or face the icy wrath of Sharpay Evans.

Today was the first day of the senior year, and to Troy, it also marked the beginning of a well-planned scheme to break himself away from Sharpay. He had been working on it all summer with the help of his basketball team, who equally despised Sharpay – or "Sharpie", as they liked to call her. They decided it would start with Troy and gang sitting at the back of the class, instead of at the front with Sharpie smelling Mrs. Darbus's mothball-scented frocks, and Troy ignoring Sharpie for the rest of the day or responding with sarcastic remarks.

The plan hit off pretty well, too: Troy, who was picked up by the Evan's chauffeur every morning, got into the limousine with a smelly basketball in one hand – one of the things that Sharpie forbid him to do. The conversation, which finally ended after Sharpie's screaming crescendo – went something like this:

"Honey, why is there a _smelly basketball _sitting between us?" She pinched her nose, swatted the air around her and winded down the black-tinted windows.

"Chad told me to bring it to school, so I did." He said nonchalantly, propping his foot up on the leather backseat – another thing that Sharpie hated.

"_Honey, _didn't I tell you not to bring those _vile things _under my nose?" Her voice was quivering now, her eyes burning with a violent blaze. Troy smiled inwardly.

"Whatever, man, you can't keep telling me what to do. Besides, Chad's sick of bringing the ball every day; he says it's stinking up his car. I quote him: 'Troy, man, your girlfriend's got _three _minions just to wash that _limousine_; it won't hurt just to bring it for one day'." He flicked his eyes at her, daring Sharpie to start screaming.

She did.

"_I don't BLOODY CARE what that guy-with-an-afro tells you to do, I want that thing out of MY car!" _Her cheeks were a brilliant puce now. Troy thought detachedly: _It's a pity she doesn't have red hair to go with that red face and fiery temper._

"Whatever," answered Troy, his voice level. He even thought he saw the chauffeur wink slightly at him. Sharpie fumed the rest of the way to East High, and then slammed the door behind her when she got out, her Prada heels clacking on the gravel.

_Now, _thought Troy, ambling behind her, _this is gonna be a great senior year._


	2. Of Bangles and Taylor

**A/N: Read and review, thanks 3**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Disney's character, duh.**

When Troy strolled into the classroom, the first thing he noticed was that Mrs. Darbus – usually punctual, _especially _on the first day of school – was not already tsking and clicking her gnarled fingers against the whiteboard. Troy was grateful for that fact, whatever the reason was, because it allowed him five minutes of chatting and hi-fiving with Chad – at the back of the classroom, of course. Sharpay threw him a dirty glance, but did not try to persuade him to sit next to her as he usually did. To show her annoyance, she raised her voice up a notch, pretending to hold a conversation with the other two blondes that sat next to her giggling, but really directing her anger towards Troy –

"And _then _that Bolton went and propped his feet up on my beautiful fur seat covers. I mean, they are made out of _Bengal tiger fur_, approximately five hundred dollars apiece, for goodness sake. _Seriously_, I don't know why he's even my _boyfriend_, he's got wood for brains and no sense of etiquette at all… not a gentleman like Daniel in the class next door – I mean, like, he's a total _hottie_ and his dad works for mine. Daniel, at least, has _manners. _And like, he's so totally into –"

Sharpay's enthusiastic epic description of "Daniel" got cut short as Mrs. Darbus cleared her throat and swept into the room. She noticed, with delight, that she was wearing the chunky gold bangle that Sharpay had given her last year as a "little present, nothing much". Then Sharpay noticed, her heart dropping a little, the dark-haired girl that trailed behind Mrs. Darbus.

"Class, come to attention!" Mrs. Darbus snapped her fingers, and the bangle jingled. She winked at Sharpay, and received a sweet plastic smile in return.

"This is Gabriella Montez and she'll be joining us for our senior year. Ms Montez is new here, so I would appreciate it very much if –" She broke off and gave Chad the evil eye – he had been flipping erasers into the air.

"Mr. Danforth, I am sure that you require some one-on-one attention, but not _now, _please. As I was saying, Ms. Montez here needs a good guide around the school. How about you, Ms. Evans? I'm sure you'll be an inspiration to Ms. Montez here."

Sharpay raised a perfect eyebrow at her name, sizing Gabriella up. She was dark, beautiful and had a touch of the exotic – the guys were sure to chase her. Was she worth the time? Sharpay stole a glance at Troy. _Well, as long as she doesn't steal Troy away from me, I'm fine with it. _

Troy was deeply engrossed in a text conversation with Chad.

"Okay, Mrs. Darbus," Sharpay chirped, practically glowing with the self-satisfaction of a teacher's pet. As Gabriella moved forward to sit in the empty chair behind Sharpay, she hissed: "So what are you? A jock's girl, a nerd, an emo kid?"

"What?" Gabriella whispered back. She had straight and white front teeth. Sharpay recalled Troy saying: _The first thing I look at in a girl when I want to kiss her is – does she have nice teeth? _

Sharpay sighed, then repeated, "A jock's girl, a nerd or an emo kid?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Gabriella sounded sincere. "There _is _one thing I can do, though – I can supply love." She spoke with a straight face, as if she were oblivious of the absurdity of the sentence to Sharpay. _Love _wasn't a manufactured product, chugged out of a factory. _Love _wasn't mass-produced, packaged and then sent to supermarkets all over the world to get poked at by curious children. _Love _wasn't a thing; it was an element – and element that was deeply missed in Troy and Sharpay's three-year long relationship.

Sharpay tried to explain that to Gabriella without spitting in her face.

"No, you don't understand – I see it in your eyes. You _need _love. And I can help you get it back."

Her words stunned Sharpay – not because she believed anything she said, but because this girl, Gabriella Montez, had dared to doubt _love_. Their love – Sharpay and Troy.Love – the key to every lock, the window to a new world, the specter of hope.

The pair never said a word all throughout the lesson. Sharpay was fuming again, for the second time that day, and Gabriella was quietly listening to the lesson and watching Sharpay from the corner of her eyes, and thinking, _I'm more right than you know, Sharpay Evans._

--

For some reason, Troy's shadow seemed always beyond her grasp – Sharpay tried, the whole day, to steal some moments of sunshine with him, but he never seemed to be free. Conversations were no longer peppered with smiles, laughter and honey-coated words; they were cold, monotone. Hands were let go, arms pulled away, bodies repelling each other like two negative poles.

Sharpay: "Troy, you've been _avoiding _me all day. Is there something you're upset about, darling?" There was a slight hint of worry in her voice; she bit her painted nails nervously.

Troy: "It's nothing. Look, man, I need to go play ball with Chad." His blue eyes were looking into hers but not really seeing; his voice had just the smallest tinge of ill-suppressed guilt.

Sharpay: "Troy? Look at me, honey. _Look at me properly. _Tell me, are you going out with another girl? Or maybe…" Her voice trailed off, afraid of hearing the worst of it. _Please tell me you still love me. I need those three words._ She held her breath – the old Troy would break into a smile, tell her he was joking, wrap a comforting arm around her shoulder.

_But this was not the old Troy._

"I'm sorry," he said flatly, pulling away from the desperate pool of sadness in her eyes, "Chad's waiting for me."

"Only those who feel remorse will apologize, Troy!" she screamed at him in her head. Sharpay, staring at him as he was walking away, heard the alarm bells tolling in her head. She gestured to Ryan frenziedly to come to her, then passed out in his arms.

She would, of course, always be a drama queen and never getting her king.

--

With a flourish, Gabriella Montez finished off the equation by solving the unknown _x. _The Science Club members all crowded around her, tousling her braided hair, pumping her hand up and down. Taylor McKessie – the proud captain of the Scholastic Decathlon team - could only nod her head, impressed.

"Welcome aboard, Montez," she declared, gracing Gabriella's arm with a quick pat on the shoulder. "You're totally into this thing!"

"Yeah well, I guess," Gabriella smiled, "You can just call me Gabby, by the way. Hey, d'you wanna eat lunch together?"

"_Of course_, sister!"


End file.
